


sub rosa

by MistressEast



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 6+1, Alternate Universe - Canon, Choking, LITERALLY, M/M, Snoke (referenced) - Freeform, flowery language, i tried really hard to do the things you like, im really not sure how to tag this, prompt fill for my friend, some blood, the sex scene is fairly ambiguous but there is some, they know why ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 18:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15149549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressEast/pseuds/MistressEast
Summary: Hux finds himself distracted by Kylo's mouth (among other things) many times throughout the course of their relationship. A 6+1 involving a myriad of rose colors.





	sub rosa

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for this kyluxcantina prompt: his lips the color of rose blossoms. I don't usually fill prompts (because I'm lazy) but I banged this out in a few hours for a friend. I hope you like this, pal :)
> 
> Don't @ me about anything I got wrong. Unless it's like. Offensive.

_Pink._

It’s the first thing Hux notices. The cowl flipped aside and the mask lifted at Snoke’s request: _You and Colonel Hux will be working closely from now on. Show him some courtesy, Kylo._ And all Hux can see is pink petal lips drawn into an unpracticed scowl. 

Next comes ivory skin and owlish, young eyes. _So young._ Snoke’s apprentice is a boy. Past the age of majority perhaps, and hulking in frame already, but it’s a gangly height. Long lines unsure where to go, swallowed in the folds of his black robes. Hux recognizes the stance of someone trying to fill out a uniform that doesn’t quite fit. He sees it every morning in the mirror and he sees it in the set of Ren’s broad, bony shoulders, the restless clenching of his gloved hands, the nervous tongue that darts out to wet pink lips.

Hux almost glances at Snoke in disbelief. _This_ is the ultimate weapon he’s been crooning about? This child is the bullet in the head of the Republic? Hux wrangles his doubts back into the secret box he keeps deep in his mind for occasions such as this and keeps his eyes on Kylo Ren’s uncertain figure.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he greets stiffly.

Ren nods and wastes no time re-equipping his helmet. Hux watches the black metal and plastic slide into place, once again hiding those saccharine features.

 

_White._

Pressed together, a tense, bloodless line. Without his mask, Snoke’s attack dog is full of tells, and his mouth is the most obvious. Hux has gotten quite proficient at knowing when he’s struck a chord. To his credit, Ren has become less easy to rile, more adept at hiding his weak spots. But Hux is nothing if not adaptive.

“I have Supreme Leader Snoke’s full support, _General_ ,” Ren spits, his lips still pale with strain.

Despite his co-commander’s anger, Hux can’t help but preen at the sound of his new title. “I will not divert the entire fleet based on nothing but your intuition,” he responds icily.

“The Supr--”

“By all means, let’s take this to him, then.”

Ren’s mouth snaps shut and his eyes flash dangerously.

“Excellent.” Ren always looks best with his mouth closed. “Now, are we through pretending this is anything more than a child’s temper tantrum?”

Glaring, Ren crosses the few short steps between them, towering into Hux’s space. Hux is not a short man, but even he struggles not to feel dwarfed. “You lack the necessary respect,” Ren says lowly.

Hux isn’t intimidated. “What, exactly is necessary about--” In his periphery, he sees Ren’s hand twitch upward and he cuts off, flinching instinctively. 

But no invisible grip closes around his throat, no force hurls him across the conference room. Hux turns startled eyes on Ren, whose white lips are curled in a cruel smile.

“That’s a good start,” he whispers.

 

_Yellow._

Kylo swears loudly and creatively, hands flying to his face in a futile attempt to wipe away the viscous yellow fluid now dripping from his prominent features.

Hux can barely breathe for laughing, one hand braced on a tree trunk to keep himself upright.

“This is not funny!” Kylo protests, fingers rubbing over his eyes.

It really is. “I told you to keep your over-large nose away from the local flora,” Hux pants between fits of giggles. “It can be a bit aggressive.”

“I barely touched it,” Kylo grumbles, blinking carefully and scowling at Hux, who’s standing a safe distance away. The yellow ooze is already hardening, casting itself into a fragmented mask of Kylo’s face. “Kriff, what is this stuff?”

Hux checks his datapad. “A hunting technique employed by the Baavia flower. It encases small, unsuspecting prey in a hard shell, allowing the plant’s heat-sensing vines to pull the creature into a digestive acid sack located in the center of the bloom.” 

He and Kylo both look over to see that, indeed, long, spiny vines have unfurled from the roughly mouse droid-sized flower sprouting from the side of a tree. They clutch at the air in Kylo’s direction, undulated bizarrely.

Kylo stumbles away, back toward Hux, renewing his efforts to peel the substance off his face. “Why did the Jedi build their temples on planets that try to kill you?” he moans, picking at a stubborn chunk on his cheek. The bright yellow contrasts comically with his dark hair and clothes. “It’s like they wanted to die out.”

Hux finds he has little sympathy, but he can’t resist reaching out (with a gloved hand, of course) and brushing his fingers across the hardened yellow cast over Kylo’s lips. The movement of his jaw had split it enough to allow him to talk, but the entire bottom half of his face looks carved out of yellow stone.

Kylo pauses, watching Hux with wary eyes.

Hux traces the contours of Kylo’s mouth, the dip of his cupid’s bow, the natural upturn at the corners. Hux’s first impression that Kylo wasn’t designed for frowning had proven correct over their acquaintance. His aggression, his violence, while terrifying and inspiring, always projected an air of pretend. Kylo was good at anger, but it was through practice. His smiles, his laughter, however, don’t need rehearsal. Not like Hux’s.

Lost in his musing, Hux suddenly becomes aware of a hand on his waist. He blinks. Kylo’s face is filling his entire vision, drawing closer.

Panic flutters through him.

His fingers twitch, curling under the split in the cast over Kylo’s lips and he jerks away, ripping off a huge piece of hardened yellow fluid.

Kylo yelps in pain, doubling over as Hux steps around him and tosses the chunk into the foliage.

“We’d better hurry,” he says briskly, already walking away. “It will be night soon. And all of the animals on this planet are nocturnal.”

Kylo’s only response is a weak groan. 

 

_Lavender._

Kiss-swollen and glistening, Kylo’s lips can’t even form words, opening and closing soundlessly.

Hux shifts deliberately, tightening his grip around the long column of Kylo’s neck. “Sorry,” he says blandly. “I couldn’t hear you. What did you say?”

The glare Kylo musters is frankly impressive, given his position. He knows Hux doesn’t need words to understand what he wants. And he’s right. But Hux is in control now. And he’s not done.

“How does it feel, Supreme Leader?” Hux coos, gazing tenderly at the sight stretched out below him. “It hardly seems fair. I’m being much nicer than you were yesterday.” He feels Kylo’s throat struggle to contract beneath his hands and a thrill runs through him.

He’s not worried about Kylo’s comfort. As an apology, he’d been given free reign tonight. The bruises darkening one half of his body and ringing his neck ache, a reminder of where Kylo goes when Hux isn’t around, isn’t in his head as much as Snoke. But Snoke is gone and Kylo is solid underneath him. Hux isn’t going anywhere. Not anymore.

Kylo’s bound hands clench and unclench restlessly above his head. His eyelids flutter and Hux relents the tiniest bit, because this won’t be any fun if Kylo passes out. Kylo’s drags in a rough, stilted breath, his abdomen heaving between Hux’s thighs and Hux drinks in the image of the most powerful man in the galaxy at his mercy.

Hux’s gray sheets contrast against the oil spill of Kylo’s hair, damp with sweat and curling around his flushed face. Kylo’s normally snow pale face is tinged red with exertion, with blood swelling just beneath the surface. The flush reaches down his neck and across his chest, bright in the dim light of the room. His mouth is dusky, past red and darkening into a delicate lavender. Every imperfection, every mark and scar, glows against the sunset of Kylo’s skin.

Outside this room, the line bisecting Kylo’s face is a badge of failure, a reminder of his arrogance and weakness. But here, with Hux, it’s a the trailing tail of a comet visiting a twilight sky.

He was wrong before. Kylo looks best like this.

“Hux,” Kylo rasps, his black gaze boring straight through Hux, reading him like a book.

Hux slides his hands up until they’re cupping Kylo’s head, his thumbs framing Kylo’s high cheekbones, and leans over without unseating himself. He stops when he feels their lips brush together.

“Remember this,” he murmurs into Kylo’s mouth. “This is how it should be.”

Kylo whimpers and breaks the rules to surge upward, finally connecting them in a desperate kiss.

Just this once, Hux will allow it.

 

_Peach._

“You’re better at this than I expected.”

Hux pauses uncapping the container to raise an eyebrow at Kylo. “Politics are sixty percent aesthetic. I’m no stranger to modifying my appearance to garner the most attention.”

“Obviously not,” Kylo agrees, regarding himself in the dressing room mirror.

Hux has done an admirable job, if he does say some himself. Despite his rise to Supreme Leader, Kylo refused to lay off field work, and he suffers the same bumps and scrapes he always has. It wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t a public figure now.

Snoke was old and withered, not a good image to boost morale, so it made sense for him to stay in the shadows. But Kylo is young and handsome and Hux wasted little time after his ascension launching a new propaganda campaign. Their overall enlistment is undeniably up, and Hux was unsurprised to find the demographics skewed female. Understandable, but misguided.

Their Supreme Leader has little interest in the fairer sex.

However, now they must endeavor to maintain Kylo’s public face, a complicated task when Kylo can’t seem to stay out of trouble.

For now, Hux has succeeded in evening Kylo’s skin tone and covering the healing bruises on his temple and cheekbone. He uncaps the tiny jar of lip tint and reaches for an applicator.

“You’re full of surprises as well,” he says, dipping the applicator in the soft, peach-colored cream and nodding at Kylo’s hair. It’s slightly longer these days and currently pulled back in a elegant yet simple style. All Kylo; having grown up with nothing but Military-regulated haircuts, Hux is hopeless when it comes to hair.

Kylo smirks. “Son of a senator.”

Images of Senator Organa’s intricate hairstyles flash through Hux’s mind. “I see.”

Something darkens in Kylo’s eyes and Hux looks away, focusing on dabbing the tint on to Kylo’s lips. While the Resistance is mostly subdued, several key figures are still missing, including Ben Solo’s mother and the female jedi that gave Kylo so much trouble. Hux has no doubt these last threads of rebellion will be snipped soon enough, but it’s undeniable the the situation is bothering Kylo on some level.

When Snoke first introduced Kylo as his pupil, Hux had fleeting questions about his loyalty, but the depth of Kylo’s rage and discontentment quickly allayed any fears he had. Now that Kylo is more stable, more in-control, Hux wonders if perhaps it’s time to begin worrying again. After all, Kylo wasn’t raised in this world. He’s not like Hux, who has nothing but the Order and his ambitions. And Kylo.

A light touch on the back of his hand alerts Hux to the fact that he has stopped moving in favor of standing and staring dumbly at Kylo’s mouth.

“Hux? Are you alright?”

Hux blinks, mentally shaking himself, and resumes his task. “Of course. Merely lost in thought for a moment.”

Instead of settling down and allowing Hux to finish painting his lips, Kylo wraps his hand around Hux’s wrist, stilling him, and moves fluidly into Hux’s space.

“What are you--” Before Hux can protest that they don’t have time for this, the banquet is in _fifteen minutes_ , Kylo kisses him silent.

After a second of token hesitance, Hux relaxes into it, allowing Kylo to take the lead, and soon the lip tint is smeared between them, dyeing their lips a soft peach.

 

_Red._

It’s the first thing Hux notices. The first thing to really catch his attention in weeks, since he woke up alone in their quarters.

He registers the stinging in his knuckles, his lungs struggling to inhale through the smoke clogging the air, and the prickling at the corners of his eyes, but mostly he registers the red beading and dripping from Kylo’s mouth.

No. Not Kylo.

Ben Solo blinks balefully at him, his achingly familiar face lit in odd angles by the fire raging on the bridge. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb through the the blood on his lips, painting his entire bottom lip a dark, shining red. Hux longs to punch him again.

“Okay,” Solo starts. “I guess I deserved that.”

Hux lets out a hysterical bark of laughter, bringing his hands up to clutch at his hair. This is a nightmare. This is every dark fear he’s harbored since he first met Kylo Ren. This is--

“The end,” he whispers, eyes darting around his ruined bridge. Nearly all the personnel were killed in the initial attack or captured after escaping on the shuttles, so they’re alone, but for the dead. And that’s how Hux planned to finish it. He deserved it for allowing his personal grief to cloud his judgement. If he’d been paying more attention, he would have noticed the telltale stirrings of the Resistance mounting one last desperate attack, noticed how their defenses had been compromised one by one, almost like the Resistance had acquired a member with intel about the First Order’s inner workings. But he didn’t notice. And now he’s getting what he deserves. “Please. Let this be the end.”

Solo takes a step forward and Hux reacts without thinking, drawing his blaster and levelling it at him. “No. Don’t move. You do not have the right to kill me,” he gasps. The air is getting thicker, harder to breathe with each breath. “At least allow me the dignity of going down with my ship.” The thought of dying at the hands of this _traitor_ , this _thief_ fills him with panic.

“Hux,” Solo says softly, holding out one hand like he’s trying to be soothing. His eyes are still deep and molten and Hux can’t curtail his body’s instinct to soften, to listen. He can’t help it. Ben Solo has Kylo Ren’s face. Hux’s one true weakness. “You’re not going to die here.”

Hux grits his teeth in a sudden rush of fury. “Of course. Not here. Rather in a cell somewhere, ignored and forgotten. Or perhaps on display for the whole galaxy to witness. I won’t give you the satisfaction.” A quick movement of his arm places the barrel of the blaster against his own temple and he sees Solo jolt forward before stopping himself. “You took my whole life from me,” Hux continues in a low, shivery tone. “You can’t have my death as well.”

Solo presses his lips together, transferring the still-wet blood to his top lip and turning his whole mouth red. “And you always said I was the dramatic one.”

Hux presses his finger against the scanner on the blaster and it chimes in recognition.

Solo stiffens. “Please, Hux,” he pleads. “I came to get you. To save you.”

“To kill me later.”

“No!” Solo bursts out. He clamps his mouth shut and seems to struggle with himself for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is calmer. “My m--Senator Organa--she can arrange everything. We can go away together. We may never be truly free, but we’ll have each other. That’s--” he swallows, face crumpling with emotion, “--that’s all I wanted at the end.”

Hux watches him with narrowed eyes. “Why would I want to go away with you? You’re a stranger to me.”

“Hux, I’m still--”

“You’re not!” Hux screams before he can stop himself. “Don’t even say it! Kylo would never--he’d never _leave_ me like that!” His eyes are burning and at this point it’s hard to tell if that’s from the heat licking in from all sides or the possibility of tears blurring the edges of his vision. “After everything, after _everything_ ,” he chokes, “he wouldn’t _abandon_ me!”

Tears are glistening in Solo’s eyes as well, and when did he get close enough for Hux to see that? “I’m so sorry Hux, I--I panicked. I thought you’d hate me if I told you--I wanted to protect you but I didn’t think--”

“You never think!” Hux cries in exasperation. “Then--now--you just-- _do_ things!”

A watery smile breaks on Solo’s features and Hux’s heart stutters in his chest. “You’re right. I need you to think for me.” He’s less than an arm-length away now. “I need you, Hux. I’m sorry.”

Hux stares at him. He wishes he could look away, but he physically can’t. Hiz gaze is glued to the hook of Solo’s nose, the broad sweep of his forehead, the dark tangle of hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. The red rose of his lips.

His gun-arm slackens, all thoughts of righteous suicide melting away, and his free hand rises slowly, reaching for the face he knows so well.

Before his fingertips can brush Solo’s pale skin, the sharp screech of rending metal splits the air and Hux’s stomach flips as gravity shifts violently. Solo cries out, lunging for him, but the world is falling apart and all Hux can see is--

Red.

 

 

_+Orange._

Sunlight creeps greedy fingers under his eyelids and Ben groans irritably, pushing his face as far as possible into his pillow. He succeeds in ignoring the dawn for a few blessed moment before a different, more tangible set of fingers digs harshly into the soft skin under his ribs.

He yelps, flopping over in bed to glare at his husband. “Ow!” he says accusingly.

Hux rolls his eyes, unconvinced. He’s sitting up in bed, glasses perched on his nose and flipping through a datapad with one hand while the other offers Ben a placating pat. “I just thought you’d like to know the birds are back.”

“Kriff!” Ben scrambles upright, frantically untangling himself from the sheets and tripping across the room as soon as he’s free. “I’m gonna roast every single one of those force-forsaken sons of--” he races through the small house and bursts out the back door, startling a flock of pudgy, bright green birds who are, indeed, making themselves at home in their garden. “Shoo! Get out of here!” he yells, waving his arms and approaching the flock manacingingly. He may not be a Jedi anymore, but he’s still huge, and he uses his size the intimidate the dumb animals into fleeing.

After they’re all gone, Ben heaves a sigh, his breath misting in the early morning air. He needs to invest in a scarecrow.

As he turns to head back inside, his eyes catch on something nestled in the depths of one of the bushes and he freezes. His face softens with a smile.

Back inside, Ben hides the surprise behind his back as he peeks into the bedroom. “I got rid of them.”

Hux is sitting on the edge of the bed, kneading the place on his thigh where Kylo knows his prosthetic merges with his real skin. “My hero,” he deadpans, flexing his knee. The artificial limb is always stiff in the morning.

Although he and Hux had survived the destruction of Hux’s ship, neither of them had come away unscathed. Hux had been lucky to only lose one limb, and if Ben stepped into the refresher, he’d see large swathes of permanently scarred skin staring at him from the mirror. He doesn’t mind. The days when he cared about his appearance are far behind him. But Hux traces the burns sometimes, and Ben sees regret flashing in his eyes. Those nights are the hardest.

It took Hux a while to adjust to civilian life. Ben as well, but he spent most of the first few months trying not to wake up from this dream he was surely having. He simply couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he and Hux were both alive, and together, and not being hunted. It seemed impossible, despite Leia assuring him they’d be left alone. Ben knows Leia would have preferred Hux face justice, but Hux’s safety was one of his conditions for returning to the Resistance, and Leia fulfilled her promise without complaint, making them disappear in the eyes of the reformed Republic. The marriage had even been her idea. Just in case something went wrong and they were located, they’d have grounds to contest any legal action taken against them, given that Ben is classified as a protected witness. As long as Hux is his husband, they have options.

Convincing Hux had been another story, but they got there. Eventually.

Now, Ben blinks, realizing he’s been standing in the doorway staring at Hux for who knows how many seconds. Hux is staring back with suspicion in his eyes.

“What?”

Ben shakes his head, letting his eyes trail down his husband’s figure. He’s still soft and ruffled from sleep, dressed in pajama pants and a sweater to keep out the chill of this planet’s early spring. His glasses have shifted to the top of his head, perched amongst unruly ginger curls, which are haloed by the light from the window behind him. Drowsy blue eyes regard him, just as sharp as ever, but less hungry, less scared. Ben opens his mouth to tell him he’s beautiful but what comes out instead is: “Look what I found outside.” He reveals the flower behind his back and Hux clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“Ben, you’re not supposed to just cut them whenever you want.”

“Relax, this one’s fully bloomed.” Ben crosses to the bed and sinks down beside Hux, holding up the orange bloom for Hux’s inspection, mindful of the thorns. “And I saw more buds on the bush. This one’s just early.”

Hux purses his lips but holds up a hand to wrap careful fingers around the stem and pull the bloom toward himself. Ben watches, enraptured, as Hux closes his eyes and holds the flower up to his nose, inhaling delicately. The soft, almost pastel orange of the petals matches Hux’s hair.

He’s not sure why Hux got so interested in gardening after they went into hiding. Maybe he wanted to feel productive. Maybe he was just desperate for something to do. Whatever the case, Ben does his best to encourage him. And, if he’s honest, he enjoys it too. The feeling of growing something from nothing-- it’s almost antithetical to everything he stood for for so long. And it’s healing. Both the gardening and watching Hux get passionate about something.

Surrendering himself to gravity, Ben leans forward and presses a lingering kiss to the flower in front of Hux’s mouth. The petals are cool and velvety against his lips.

Hux makes a surprised noise and Ben pulls back, smirking.

“What was that?” Hux asks, face flushed, lowering the flower to his lap.

Ben shrugs. “It reminded me of you.”

Hux’s eyebrows pinch together for a beat and his jaw clenches. His eyes dart down to rest on Ben’s mouth.

“Something wrong?”

Hux’s gaze is distant, like he’s remembering something. But then he smiles and his face relaxes. A slim hand comes up to cup Ben’s cheek. “No. Everything’s fine. Everything’s just fine.” If Ben didn’t know any better, he’d say Hux sounds happy.

Before he can dwell on it, Hux is kissing him. Ben smiles into Hux’s mouth, and they greet another day together.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is wondering about First Order Investigations, it's still happening, don't worry. I'm just moving very slowly.


End file.
